Beatific Vision

"The Beatific Vision"

(by Frederick William Orde Ward)

BETWIXT the dawning and the day it came

Upon me like a spell,

While tolled a distant bell,

A wondrous vision but without a name

In pomp of shining mist and shadowed flame,

Exceeding terrible;

Before me seemed to open awful Space,

And sheeted tower and spire

With forms of shrouded tire

Arose and beckoned with unearthly grace,

I felt a Presence though I saw no face

But the dark rolling fire.

And then a Voice as sweet and soft as tears

But yet of gladness part,

Thrilled through my inmost heart,

Which told the secret of the solemn years

And swept away the clouds of gloomy fears,

The riddles raised by art;

Till all my soul was bathed with trembling joy

And lost in dreadful bliss,

As at Gods very kiss,

While the earth shrivelled up its broken toy,

And like a rose the heavens no longer coy

Laid bare their blue abyss.

The giant wheels and all the hidden springs

Of this most beauteous globe,

Which man may never probe,

Burst on me with a blaze of angel wings

And each bright orb that like a diamond clings

To the veiled Fathers robe:

I saw with vision that was more than sight,

The levers and the laws

That fashion stars as straws

And link with perfect loveliness of right,

In the pure duty that is pure delight

And to one Center draws.

I knew with sudden insight all was best,

The passion and the pain,

The searching that seem vain

But lead if by dim blood-stained steps to Rest.

And only are the beatings of Gods Breast

Beneath the iron chain;

I knew each work was blessèd in its place,

The eagle and the dove,

While Nature was the glove

Of that dear Hand which everywhere we trace,

I felt a Presence though I saw no face,

And it was boundless Love.